Echoes of Summer
by pulchritudo in omnia
Summary: They had a whirlwind of a summer, but December 7th, 1941 changed that...and everything else with it. A story of life, love, war and heartbreak. Bucky/OC - SortofAU.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

 _[May 25th, 1941]_

-xx-

Life to Lydia Ashford meant lavish parties. Expensive clothing she would never be able to afford without the help of her family. Endless drinks, flowing alcohol. Life to her meant enduring long nights of dull conversation. It meant getting herself dressed up and put on display for the eligible bachelors in town. It meant impressing her parent's coworkers, offering pleasantries and acting on her best behavior. It meant endless sons of friends - all of which trying to come up with something to say to woo their way into her heart. It meant laughing at their dry humor, smiling through pursed lips, holding down the bile building in her throat when they asked her to go out with them.

Today was no exception. Her father had finalized a new study, something about prenatal research she had very little knowledge of. In his honor, a party of grandiose proportions was to be held in a local venue. People in decadent gowns, women with their prized husbands latched to their slender arms. Single men wearing the most expensive suits they could find, tailored to perfection, their hair slicked to perfection. All the while young women donned their fanciest gowns, in hopes of ensnaring a young man of their own.

Flutes filled with champagne, all sipped as secrets were shared and lives were destroyed. The mighty came to tout their fortune - to show one another why _they_ were superior. A class struggle in a skewed society; an endless cycle of trying to out best the person to their right and left. A maddening circle of false expectation, battles of wit, and brutal warfare dealt at the hand of sharp tongues and scandal.

Lydia ran her fingers along the plush velvet drapery enveloping the room, her heart pounding in time with the music playing in the background. A sultry tune played with jazz instruments, while a woman sang of heartbreak at the hands of the wrong man. People watched her as she weaved in and out of the countless bodies, some of the younger women even sneering as she passed. _New York's Princess,_ they called her behind red lips and glinting, pearly white teeth. All the girls who wished for no more than for Lydia Ashford to fall from her supposed grace and tumble on each step of the way down. The girl they claimed had everything, wanted for nothing, and had all her wishes and desires handed to her.

She stopped in the powder room when the murmuring became too much, tossing her purse on the countertop and glancing at the woman staring back at her in the mirror. Some days she didn't even recognize herself. Others she didn't _want_ to. Her hair still fell the same way, a mass of brown hair which never quite decided if it wanted to be straight or wavy on any given day. Her eyes were still rounded and brown, filled with the emotions she'd never be able to hide because she wore them in her irises. The gown she wore clung in places she thought inappropriate and uncomfortable, the same red color as the lipstick swiped across her lips.

She felt like a fake. Like any of the other young and rising elitists, trying so hard to be someone they would never quite be. What with her mother incessantly reminding her that these parties were also meant for her. That they were planned in the hopes she might meet someone and secure her future. Someone of a higher social standing with a job lined up, or an inheritance which would come in within the next few years.

But she didn't want any of that.

And yet she leaned closer to the mirror, plucked her lipstick out of her bag and swiped it across her lips one more time. Her fingers pinched color back into her cheeks, palms patting the skin for added effect. She was young, beautiful and privileged. Anyone would _love_ to be in her situation and living her life. Yet she craved more, her heart always beating to a different tune not quite in tandem with everyone around her. Always searching for something else, though that _something_ remained unclear.

"Oh _there_ you are! I've been looking for you all night. You'll never believe this!"

Helena Donohue appeared in the mirror, her slender form and flowing blonde hair glinting in the pale lights of the chandelier dangling up above. Her fingers were fisted in the gown she wore, feet frantically moving across the floor. Lydia closed her lipstick and tossed it in her bag, eyes never leaving the woman now standing behind her. Helena Donohue never remained long without some sort of drama swirling around her, constantly known for being a bit of a flirt at all the parties she attended. Arching her brows, Lydia finally turned to face the girl, gasping when she nearly toppled her over once the girl latched her hand around her forearm without so much as a warning.

"I think I am in _love_."

"You said that about the soldier you met not too long ago," Lydia pointed out, leading Helena toward one of the seats littering the room. "And then about that man you met at my birthday party...the one with the _smoldering_ eyes as you put it."

Helena pouted, saying, "The soldier ended up having steady relationship, remember?"

"Which he so kindly forgot to tell you -"

"And the man with the eyes and I were going steady for a bit, but it didn't take long to realize we weren't meant for each other. He didn't even want to work anyway. He was always going on and on about how he wanted to help others instead and do philanthropic outreach, and you know my parents wouldn't have wanted that. They want me to marry a doctor...or a businessman."

"They want what they think is best for you," she told her friend. "And honestly, neither of those men were good for you. I could tell from the start."

Lydia forced a smile, cupping her friend's hand in her own. "So tell me about this new guy? Is he here tonight?"

"Not yet, but I am sure when he gets here you'll realize he's _different._ "

She hoped so for Helena's sake. Still, she kept her mouth in an upturned smile and allowed her friend to prattle on about this man. His tall, rugged build. His handsome features, from the hard line of his _sculpted jaw_ \- as she so delicately put it - to the broad width of his shoulders and the slope of his back, down to the hardened muscles of his abdomen. Utterly useless descriptors, but common for Helena who preferred to focus on the exterior rather than the interior.

"But what is he like, Helena?" She wanted to ask, though she instead settled for, "He must be nice."

"He is - oh, you'll just love him! Well, not like I do." She paused, her cheeks growing a pink tinge which made Lydia's chest burn in affection. "That's not why I came to look for you, though. In all of this I completely forgot that your parents were looking for you. Your father is being granted an award and you're expected to take pictures with him."

Always the proud daughter. She bit her tongue and dipped her head, figuring she would have been expected sooner or later to act the role of dutiful daughter in the flashing camera lights. Helena locked her arm with Lydia's, leading her toward the exit to the powder room, a concerned glint in her blue eyes. Lydia shook her head and inhaled sharply, pushed her hand against the door, and slipped back into the hysteria of the room around her. The endless couples, the clinking of glasses, the smirks the red hot lust, the comments on her attire and looks as she passed.

Always judged. Always measured against the person to her left or the person to her right. _Don't let them own you, girl_ , her mother always told her growing up. So she lifted her head and hardened her jaw just slightly enough in the way she knew made her look regal, batted her lashes like a 'good daughter,' and waved to her father's guests as she passed. Helena, ever the rock she was, whispered words of encouragement and retorts of distaste to those who thought lesser of the dainty brunette trying to fight against the current of bodies.

As she joined her brother, Louis, Lydia slipped away from Helena and bid her thanks, coming to stand in front of her sibling. Her parents drew her close, acting the role of the 'Perfect Ashford Family' everyone expected them to. All the while her heart pounded in her chest, trying to break free, but too scared to take the leap and find out who exactly Lydia Ashford was. Who Lydia Ashford was always meant to be.

"Father looked about ready to take away your inheritance were you a minute late," Louis teased through clenched teeth, keeping his perfect smile in place for the photographers.

"That's okay, he can do whatever he wishes with that money. I'll make something of myself on my own," she bit out, clenching her fists in the fabric of her dress.

"Will you now, dearest sister? How do you plan on going about that?"

She frowned, shaking her head. "I have skills, and I was always one of the smartest in my class. Just because Father thinks I should focus my attention on finding a husband doesn't mean I can't be _something._ "

Lydia lifted her head a bit to look at her elder brother, groaning inwardly when a photographer shouted that they liked that and suggested she should keep looking at her brother like the affectionate little sister she was deemed to be. Louis chuckled, actually amused by this, and cupped her hand in his, giving it a short squeeze.

"You're enjoying this." She loathed him for it.

"I just don't see why you fight it so much," he muttered back, ignoring the roll of her eyes the pictures wouldn't capture. "This is your life; you're privileged and happy, not everyone can say the same. Be grateful for what you have, Lyddie."

"That isn't the point," she nearly screamed, but pressed her lips into a firm line instead and forced a laugh from her throat, allowing the cameras to blind her.

Allowing the sounds of the room to drown out the unvoiced protests frantically bouncing around in her head.

-xx-

The headlines hot off the press the next day spoke of her father's great accomplishments and advancements in prenatal care. His award photos were plastered in the bottom corner, not quite important enough to garner the front page, but enough to grant him a two page spread on what exactly he was deep in research with. She flipped the pages as she stood in front of a news cart, using a beam to keep her balance she scanned the words glaring up at her.

The photo chosen of her family was one of the ones she knew was taken as her brother reprimanded her for being late and nearly overshadowing her father's moment with her lack of care. But one wouldn't be able to tell from the way her eyes were locked on his, a mix of a grimace and grin on her lips, Louis' eyes still focused on the camera.

They commented on how it was a family affair, a wondrous party thrown for anyone who was deemed important enough to be in attendance. They spoke of the elegance of the whole night, the humbleness of her father as he was handed an award, the grace of his dutiful wife. A line was even spared for Louis and her, about how they were the picture of perfection and pride in their father.

Glancing up at the man still eyeing her from his cart, Lydia suddenly remembered she had elsewhere to be and dropped the money owed into his palm. He muttered she'd given him too much, but was long gone without a care by the time she'd even realized he shouted after her. The subway she needed to get onto was called to depart in two minutes, and she twisted in and out of bodies in her frantic pursuit to catch it before it left. Helena would kill her if she was late to the date she'd acquired for the two in efforts to cheer up her otherwise aggravated friend as of late. A date she fought hard to avoid, but eventually conceded, willing to give things a try with the unknown man.

"Hold the door!" Someone shouted from behind her on the stairs, jerking her forward and sending her tumbling the rest of the way down. "Oh, God."

The doors to the subway closed once her body realigned itself and floundered to find its way back into a sitting position. She cried out in protest at the sight of people vanishing behind the metal contraption, her fist helplessly slamming on the concrete below. A gasp spilled from her parted lips at her ignorant decision, hand waving in the air, offended by the unneeded stress she'd inflicted upon it.

A bump was already forming on the back of her head, palm coming up to brush along it pathetically. At least there was no blood, she thought, wincing at the dull throb beginning to settle in. Who shouted like a fool in a public place like that?

A hand cupped around her back to lend support, to which she shuddered away from and crawled backward, meeting a pair of brown eyes filled with regret and concern. She inhaled sharply, her hands tugging her skirt down back into place. The man could be a lecherous creep, after all - though she doubted it by the way he was dressed. He must have had at least _some_ wealth, for his clothes told her as much.

"I'm sorry. That was my fault," he admitted, looking down at the ground, still crouched low on the ground in front of her. "I was going to miss my subway, and...well, I still did. But I didn't mean to almost kill a dame - _woman_ in the process."

"Yeah, well, you nearly did. Now if you don't mind me, I have to catch the next one and hope I'm not late for where I'm headed."

She dusted herself off and scrambled to her feet, losing her balance again upon doing so. Her deranged attacker and hero in one reached out to help her, this time his hand a mere ghost against her shoulders in hopes she wouldn't jerk away again. She didn't, however, and used his weight to steady herself before repositioning her skirt into place. He held aloft her wide brimmed sunning hat, wearing a mix between a grimace and smirk. The girl snatched it from him without a word and popped it onto her head, adjusting the rim to the shape she had it before he had almost killed her in the stairwell.

"Where were you headed exactly?" He glanced over at her, not lingering for any longer than necessary. Good, she thought.

"Ebbetts Field," she said, eyes shifting to meet his out the corner of her eye.

"That's funny, because I was headed there as well," he told her, tucking his hands into his pockets.

" _Hilarious._ "

She rolled her eyes and stared ahead of her at the empty train tracks a few feet ahead of them, wanting more than anything to jump onto them if only to avoid prolonged contact with the man. Her reverie was stirred as the man stepped closer to her, holding open the now tattered newspaper she must have dropped on her way down the stairs. It lay opened on the page with her family plastered in the center. His eyes flickered between her silhouette in the photo and the woman standing by him now, then back again. And again. And _again_. Disgruntled, she whirled around to face him and ripped the thing away from him.

"Are you done?"

He held out his hands in surrender and laughed. He actually had the nerve to laugh. "I'm sorry, I really am. Though I'm not sure what I'm sorry _for,_ seeing as I already apologized for making you fall down the stairs."

She shook her head and handed the paper back to him, biting her lip. "That was uncalled for, but can you blame me? I was just attacked and then saved by the same stranger."

"It's fine...I was just going to say -"

The sound of another subway pulling in startled the pair and the conversation lay suspended in the air. Gathering her things, she followed closely behind him, still wondering what he meant to tell her before his words died on his lips.

-xx-

"My name is Bucky Barnes, by the way."

Neither had said anything for the first five minutes of their trip, which she found odd given they'd already had a tumultuous start to whatever _this_ was. She figured if they were headed to the same place she might as well try to fill the silence with friendly conversation. And when he said nothing, she turned her head to watch the bricks fly by in the tunnel instead. Yet here they were.

She toyed with a button on her shirt. "Lydia Ashford."

"I know," he said, shaking his head to amend his choice of words. She felt like there was something he was hiding, and before she could make mention of it he said, "Some of the lesser newspapers like to gossip and I've seen your name mentioned here and there."

She wondered briefly what he thought of them, and then pushed her brief lapse in judgement aside and swallowed the curiosity. Bucky shifted next to her, the newspaper still curled in his palm. Nervous, she scooted to the left a bit, or as far as she could manage given their tight space. His knee still knocked against hers with every jerk of the vehicle, and the heat of his upper arm seeped into her own skin. Being this close to a man was foreign to her, and even despite the innocence of the situation she still felt her toes curl in her shoes.

"I was also there last night," he added after some time, shrugging.

At this she perked up, eyes flashing toward his. "You were?"

He nodded, chuckling. "I am friends with Louis. Our parents also used to be really good friends, so I've been to a party or two that the Ashford's have held."

"Used to be?" she asked, recollection of ever knowing him nonexistent.

"They...uh, passed away."

Her face burned hot, embarrassed for being so insensitive. The Barnes', of coarse she knew them. Although she'd never been one to spend much time around Bucky, she remembered him now...albeit younger and different than the man sitting next to her now. Her mother and his had grown up together and married men who were the best of friends. When the news came in his parent's had died in that tragic accident her parents were horrified, and though she was too young at the time to understand what was happening while they attended the joint funeral, the pieces clicked into place and her eyes burned at the memory of it all.

" _James_ ," she whispered his name, trying hard to remember any memory in which they might have shared a conversation prior to this. "We weren't really friends ever, were we?"

He shook his head. "You avoided people most of the time growing up."

 _I still do that now_. Shifting again, she turned her face and met him face on, finally taking a moment to look at him. To _really_ look at him. Long gone was the longer, messy mop of unruly dark hair which never stayed in place on his head no matter how hard his mother willed it to. He kept it short now, cropped closer to his face with a few wisps still dancing across his forehead. It suited him, giving him an air of boyhood even now. Where his face used to be pale and hairless now hinted at a face which needed to be shaved in order to keep as smooth as it was now. And from where she sat, seemingly too close to the man, she saw the flecks of blue in his otherwise green eyes. Swallowing, she tugged at the neck of her top and cleared her throat.

"Why did you stop coming around?" she questioned, keeping her voice leveled so as to not make it seem like she cared.

"Just seemed easier to distance myself from everyone that my parents associated with. I mean, I still keep in touch with Louis...but he usually comes to Brooklyn. Where I'm at now," he explained, his eyes not once leaving her as he spoke. "Your Mother actually invited me to the party last night. I wasn't planning on going, but I was supposed to meet up with someone while I was there and Louis also told me he would foot the bill the next time we go somewhere."

"Sounds like Louis." Bucky nodded, grinning. "Do you miss any of it?"

"Being dressed up and dragged around to parties where all everyone talked about was politics and money?"

Lydia laughed, finding no fault in his critique. "It's still very much the same. But come on! You and Louis loved all the attention from the girls, I'm sure."

"Oh, you mean the ones who would knock around with the first man they find who has a decent salary?" He arched a brow at her, smirking.

"Point taken." She smiled down at her hands, which were balled up in her lap. "I guess you really don't miss it, then."

"Not at all. Last night just sort of solidified in my mind that Brooklyn is my home now."

At least one of them understood where they belonged in the world. Lydia felt the vehicle skitter to a halt beneath them, the subway bumping and tossing a bit as it pulled into the station, her knee knocking his and sending another unfamiliar jolt down her spine. Deciding she didn't like it, she jumped up once the doors opened and marched out ahead of the man. He called her name as she went, though her feet held their steady pace beneath her.

"I think we should grab ice cream before the game starts," he said, catching up to her.

"You think so?" She couldn't hide the redness of her cheeks, nor could she hide the fact that she enjoyed ice cream a bit too much. He dipped his head once and grabbed her forearm. "I didn't say yes, Bucky!"

"The look on your face said otherwise, and in repayment for earlier I'll pay for you," he said, dragging them into a nearby ice cream shop.

The man at the counter greeted him as he entered, seemingly knowing Bucky. His eyes then flickered to the girl on his arm and shot him a look Lydia could not put an emotion to. Shaking it off, she glanced around the shop once, noting the color scheme. Bright, vibrant colors littered everything. From the red clock, to the red stools and white walls. The bright blue tables, the gold accents. It looked like the American flag had shed some of its vibrance and spread it about the room. She enjoyed the homage to her country and allowed herself to peruse the different flavors offered. Some of which she'd never heard of in her life. Bucky watched her intently, muttering quiet conversation as she searched with the man at the counter.

"You two headed to the Brooklyn Dodgers game?" the man, who finally introduced himself as Paul, asked.

"Yes, but not together," Lydia said, finally pointing to the chocolate ice cream she decided upon. Simple, and just how she liked it. "We're friends."

"Friends?" Paul raised a brow at Bucky, who merely shrugged his shoulders.

"Lydia is Louis' little sister. He's come in here a few times."

"Ah, yes, with his dates. Louis Ashford." Paul scooped the ice cream onto a cone and passed it to Lydia, who practically bounced on her toes in anticipation. "You're William and Lynette's daughter."

She nodded, though she noted the slight shadow lingering over his eyes at the mention of her mother's name, and said nothing of it. Maybe they had known one another in the past, she wasn't sure. Instead of drawing attention to it, she waited for Bucky at a nearby table, tapping her fingers along the surface as she lapped away at her treat.

Her mother would have killed her if she saw her now, sitting in an ice cream parlor and scarfing down something which definitely didn't fit into her mother's dietary restrictions set for her. _You need to be mindful of what you put in your body_ , she could hear her saying, a sneer on her face. _You remember what happened to Katerina Harper? She gained all that weight and had to call of her engagement._

What her mother didn't know was that Katerina Harper had actually been pregnant, not just putting on weight, and her husband to be was not the father. And in order to protect the scandal from gaining attention around town, she left and moved somewhere in the south with relatives...never to be seen again. Laughing at the thought, she swallowed a particularly large bit and winced at the pain forming in the middle of her brows.

"Not so fast there," Bucky said with a laugh, watching her lips tug south at the pain blooming on her features.

"Paul seems nice."

The man in question had disappeared to the back to sweep the floors, still visible behind the door. Bucky turned his head in the direction she'd gestured, a fond smile playing across his lips.

"After my parents died I came here a lot. I figured it was better than drinking the sadness away."

"I would say so," she admitted, still filled with the lingering sadness over the family members she'd known growing up.

True as it was she tended to favor her solitude as a little girl, she remembered his mother and father fondly. Remembered the way her mother cried for weeks after she'd found out they died that horrible day. Knowing Bucky and his little sister Rebecca had lived since then as young adults with no parents to look over them wedged a feeling of dread into her heart. Such a thing was unimaginable.

Bucky watched her as she slipped away into her thoughts again, not saying anything, just staring. Uncomfortable, she shifted in her chair and pretended her ice cream was much more intriguing than learning about the man she spent her childhood ignoring. But try as she might, her eyes flickered to his every so often and she found herself trailing the line of his jaw with her gaze. Or watching the pupils of his eyes dilate as he spoke about trivial things like where he lived and his new town in Brooklyn.

They could have sat there for minutes or hours, she wasn't sure. But it felt natural, and she leaned closer after a while, opening up a bit more in his presence. A little bit of ice cream had happened to find its way on his upper lip, and she snorted into the cone she nibbled on between conversation.

"What's so funny, doll?" he asked, keeping his tone serious, despite the playful glint in his eyes which told her otherwise.

"Oh _nothing_ ," she teased, elbows propped up on the table.

He raised his brows at her evident lie, tossing a stray napkin at her. "Now you're lying!"

"Oh fine! You, uh, have a mustache. Here - let me."

She giggled and snatched a napkin from the container in the middle of their table tucked away in the back corner of the parlor. Hesitantly, she raised the napkin in the air and pressed it against his skin, using her thumb beneath to wipe away the frozen treat. Silence hung suspended in the air, his breath hitched in the back of his throat at the feeling of her suddenly so close to him and willingly touching him.

 _You don't know him,_ her mind screamed. But she allowed her fingers to linger, her eyes locked with his for what felt like a decade. Paul clearing his throat snapped her back to reality, and she scooted her chair back so harshly it jostled the table when it collided with her hips. Biting back a groan, she tossed her soiled napkins into a waste bin and gripped her bag, remembering they had somewhere to be and were much later than she'd ever anticipated.

"We should go," she said, to which Bucky gave a sound nod. "My friend will be wondering where I am, I'm sure she's already angry with me."

"You're probably right. Thanks, Paul." He shouted behind them and held the door open as she stepped outside, walking in the direction of Ebbetts Field.

The rest of the walk was silent. At the doors to the stadium someone took their tickets and pointed them in the direction of their seats, which were oddly enough in the same section. She thought nothing of it, even as they began walking down the steps and nearly rammed into each other upon doing so in effort to walk down the cloistered steps right by their seats.

"I'm this way," she said, pointing toward the familiar mop of blonde hair belonging to Helena.

He looked in the direction she pointed and frowned. "So am I..."

 _That was strange_ , she wanted to say, but instead continued making her way toward Helena, watching as the blonde turned around upon hearing Lydia call her name. Her face illuminated even brighter than the sun already falling onto it, and her pretty blue eyes drifted behind her, making her vibrant smile grow further if possible at all. Lydia barely noticed the man sitting beside Helena, for her chest suddenly ached in a way she'd never experienced before.

Because Helena called out Bucky's name, and suddenly she had launched herself out of her chair and in the direction of the two.

Suddenly she was standing before him and dragging his face forward, his shirt fisted in her palms.

Suddenly she was kissing him as if he were the only man present in a place filled with people.

Helena was in love with Bucky.

Helena was _in love_ with _Bucky._

And she had no idea why it made her chest ache the way it did.

-xx-

Louis Ashford was keeping a secret, Lydia decided, as she searched through his things on his bedroom desk. The man was always one for secrets, but as of late spoke less and less of his personal life. And although she had mostly put snooping behind her as of late, she decided she had the right to know what exactly her older brother was up to these days. Plus, it gave her a chance to distract her from the fact that Helena and Bucky were 'going steady' as Helena had so quickly put it once the night was over that fateful day.

Lydia didn't question her, nor did she bid Bucky a farewell once the group parted. She had simply hugged Steve goodbye, telling him she wanted to get together with him again soon to talk, and made her way toward the subway which would take her and Helena back home. It wasn't fair, and she hardly understood the emotions which coursed through her veins that night or every night thereafter, but she felt it necessary at the time and faltered not in her decision.

Thankfully, she hadn't seen him since that day now a month gone, only heard about him every time Helena came over and cried about how _perfect_ and _romantic_ Bucky was and about how she was practically preparing their wedding and naming their future children. And who was she to stomp on her friend's dreams, no matter how foolish she thought them to be? She barely even knew the man, and as much as she disliked the fact they were going steady for whatever reason, she still hoped and prayed he treated her well and never left her side. It would crush Helena.

Sighing, Lydia sifted through her brother's letters, stumbling across one with an emblem she faintly recognized. Military papers...enlistment forms...with his name on them. But what for? She tucked her lip between her teeth and saw the measurements of her brother, his weight, his health status, his appearance, date of birth, and countless other facts about him she already knew. There were symbols stamped in corners of the sheet. She held no inkling of anything about what she was reading, but had an idea it wasn't anything good.

A clatter of something hitting the wooden floors below reached her ears, and she barely shoved the forms back into her brother's desk before he appeared in his doorway, holding a cup of coffee in hand. He considered her for a moment, head tilted to the side, gesturing to the haggard rise and fall of her chest.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, taking a sip of his drink. "It looks like you're up to something, and I know it's within your character to snoop around _other_ people's things, but you look like you've run a couple of miles."

"I lost my copy of..." She glanced around, frantically searching for a familiar title and stumbled upon, "...Pride and Prejudice and I felt like reading it again, and I know you had one lying around when I suggested you should read it -"

"So you figured you would snoop around in my things?" He moved further into the room, sitting down against his desk.

She nodded, feigning a look of innocence in her eyes. "So, uh, anything planned for today? Taking any girls out on the town? Going to a club?"

"I know you're diverting, but I'll pretend I don't care about why," he said, laughing. "You know, Bucky is actually spending the evening here. Mom and Dad were so happy to see him at the party that they practically begged him to start coming around more. Mom's cooking."

"She's cooking... _dinner_?"

As much as her heart raced in her chest at the mention of Bucky, she couldn't believe her ears at the latest development. Lynette Ashford didn't cook. In fact, Lydia had only seen her use the kitchen a handful of times in her life. Most of the time they either went to a restaurant for their meals, and while staying in hotels made sure services were present to provide them with meals. But at her brother's slow nod of the head, she snorted in disbelief.

"I think she's deflecting onto Bucky," Louis continued, shrugged. "She thinks maybe she can replace the loss of her best friend by taking in her son."

"And Rebecca?" Lydia asked, hoping to have another woman present to distract her from the discomfort of the night.

Louis shook his head. "She said she had some prior plans with some of her friends, but it's okay...Helena already agreed to come and keep you company. I know you never really enjoyed Bucky's company growing up, so I figured I would go ahead and mention it to her while I saw her at _Gustav's_ earlier. This way you're not alone."

Of coarse he had asked Helena, and of coarse he'd seen her at _Gustav's._ He'd been buying coffee from there ever since he realized it was the pretty blonde's favorite place to go for her breakfast. A warm croissant and black tea every day without fail. She knew it was part of his weird fascination with the girl who never paid him any attention, refusing to look twice at her best friend's older brother. He was helplessly infatuated, and she remained forever oblivious. Still, Lydia gritted her teeth together and fiddled with the edge of the desk where a piece of wood had chipped from one too many punishments.

"You don't look thrilled that Helena is coming," he noted, brushing a finger along the back of her palm as she worked at the damaged edge. "Did you two get into a fight? I noticed the last time she was here you barely said three words to her."

"It's hard to get in a word of edgewise with her when all she does it ramble on half the time about her life." She smoothed her palm out on the desk, leaning her weight onto her wrist, head tilted up toward the ceiling. "You two would get along so well if only she were to get her head out of the clouds; both of you enjoy invading others privacy and asking endless questions until you're both blue in the face."

"Yes, well, that is why there are other women to preoccupy my time while Helena gets her wits about her."

"Those poor women," Lydia teased, her palm reaching out to thwack him against the chest. "I should go get ready for tonight."

Louis regarded her silently as she meandered over to the door, calling her name right as she reached the frame. Her fingers curled around the edge.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" he asked.

"Yes, thanks."

His head cocked to the side, arms folded across his chest. "But you're empty handed."

"...Right," she murmured, marching back over to the bookcase and searching for the gilded edge of his Pride and Prejudice copy.

Once plucked from the wall, she whirled on her feet and raced out the door, mind still racing over the forms of enlistment she'd stumbled upon.

-xx-

Helena showed up dressed in the prettiest emerald dress she owned in her wardrobe and her hair pulled back in an elegant chignon, while Lydia stood in little more than a simple summer dress, her hair falling around her face in messy waves. Lynette Ashford grumbled under her breath as she kissed Helena hello - something along the lines of wishing her daughter had the right mind to make herself look put together on even the most casual of nights. Snorting, she slipped into the foyer of the home, pacing back and forth with a flute filled with champagne nearly spilling on the floor.

By the time she'd almost worn a hole into the antique rug which she was certain belonged to her grandmother's grandmother, the doorbell rang and her stomach lurched. Everyone else had settled down in the next room over, sorted out the plates and cutlery and began talking about their day and the like. Whereas Lydia found herself the unwilling greeter. Her mother insisted upon it, telling her she owed Bucky as much for treating him like a fly on the wall for the better half of her life. _If you only knew,_ she thought as her fingers curled around the door handle, tugged it open and found herself face to face with the man in question.

He just _had_ to look like he did. Short hair slicked back, his face freshly shaven, a dark navy button up and black pants, with a jacket overtop that outlined his lithe build. Her heart thudded at the sight, and she felt her jaw slacken a bit, only to clatter closed when he leaned forward and enveloped her in a hug. Being so close made it easier to inhale his scent. Something along the lines of fresh linen and sandalwood - and maybe a bit of mint. Definitely male, and _much_ appreciated.

Face flushed, she stepped backward and grabbed his arm, leading him down the hall attached to the dining area. He stared at her as they walked, a fact she tried to ignore as much as she wanted to acknowledge. Words between the two were far and between the rest of the last night they'd seen one another. Everything after his and Helena's kiss clipped and forced. She'd even gone out of her way to make sure her attention remained focused on Steve, despite the fact that whatever relationship which would develop between those two was merely platonic with no hope of turning into anything more.

Bucky obviously had qualms about this; especially what with her being one of his closest friend's little sister. Still, she regarded him cooly and almost coldly. As one would treat a business associate. All serious expressions and superficial conversation.

Her mother was the first to greet them as they appeared, her arms coming to wrap around him and tug him so close Lydia was certain he couldn't breathe. What looked to be tears even clouded over her eyes. Her father fared no better, hugging him and clapping him on the back as if he were his own lost son who had finally returned home and now held a feast in honor of. Louis followed in suit, reaching for Bucky's hand to shake, but only laughed and hugged him tight thereafter.

Helena on the other hand almost knocked her chair over in effort to once again pounce on the man as if she were an animal stalking its prey. Were it not for Lynette clearing her throat disapprovingly once Helena reached forward to kiss the man, Lydia might have expelled what little food she'd eaten thus far from her body. Thankfully, she might enjoy her meal yet.

Conversation was lackluster. A lot of which surrounding what Bucky did for a living currently, how his new home was, what he did in his spare time. Helena sighed as he spoke fondly of Steve and Brooklyn, her head propped up in the palm of her hand, elbow on the table. Louis mentioned a new club that the two intended to try out in the next couple of days, and Lydia just lingered in the background, sipping her drink and listlessly pushing her food around on her plate.

"Mom, I'll get a head start on cleanup," Lydia said, moving her chair out and lifting her plate in hand. "You can all stay here and continue on talking about whatever it is you were all talking about."

Lynette thanked her, but Helena narrowed her eyes, asking, "Is everything okay? You haven't said a word tonight."

"I don't really have much to say, I suppose," she murmured, slipping down the hall which led to the kitchen. Sighing, she tossed the dishes she gathered and began washing them.

"Hey, Lydia?" Bucky asked, just when she thought she'd managed solitude. She craned her head over shoulder and stared at him expectantly. "Your mother said that you have a wine rack in here after I offered to grab some more for everyone. Where would that be?"

"Right in the corner."

The rack was clearly on display to her left, but she said nothing of it and watched the man walk over to the rack and snatch an expensive bottle of red wine off the rack. His eyes flitted over the label and then raised to meet her silhouette.

"How's your head? I forgot to ask."

She'd almost forgotten about the bruise which developed on the base of her skull thanks to their past incident. Thinking of it now, she raised a sudsy hand and pressed her fingers against the skin there.

"It seems I haven't sustained any long term damage, so you're fine." At the way his gaze lingered on her and then the bottle for some time, she laughed and said, "You know, I always thought you were more than adequate with your reading skills, Bucky."

He chuckled. "How would you know that?" She wouldn't, but his lips still upturned. "It wasn't like you were ever leaping with joy in the past whenever I spent time here. And look, I'm sorry about the baseball game...really."

"Whatever for?" She tossed the dish onto the drying rack and whirled around to gauge his expression, the skirt of her dress billowing around her knees. "You didn't do anything. We're friends, Bucky, and you're seeing Helena. Or whatever it is she does with men - which I really don't care to know about."

"...Right."

"You're Louis' best friend, and my mother adores you and I think she's got half a mind to take you in as one of her own. She's got this whole long lost prodigal son type complex about you and your sister, if you hadn't noticed."

"She does."

"Which makes us basically family..." She wiped her hands against the rag dangling from the oven handle and flipped her hair over one shoulder, watching the man fiddle with the label on the bottle once more. "So don't worry about it. You don't owe me an apology or anything, because you have nothing to apologize _for._ "

"Right."

"So let's just go back in there and pretend everything is normal, because it is."

He nodded his head once and slipped in front of her, unaware of the fact that her heart raced in her chest and bitter tears clouded her eyes.

-xx-

Early June brought with it lots of rain - and for this time of year, Lydia was happy for such. It was much more appreciated than sweltering heat and high levels of humidity which made it feel like she wore second, slicker skin. On that day in particular, she had been walking down the hall leading to the bathroom nestled between hers and her brothers when she tore open the door and gaped tomato faced at the sight of a very bare chested Bucky Barnes in no more than a low hanging towel.

The two frantically passed horrified expressions between one another for a minute, her eyes dropping momentarily to the slope of his chest and the curve of his hips as they disappeared under the thin towel. Gasping, her eyes jerked back upward and she berated herself for looking at him as such, forcing her heart rate to return to normal as he stared at her like a deer caught in headlights. A moment later a smirk slipped over onto his lips, a slow spreading one which she nearly smacked him for.

"Do not say anything."

"I wasn't going to."

She bit her lip. "Well, if you change your mind on that I will make you regret it."

He laughed, a loud barking laugh. "Threatening me now, are you? Whatever did I do to deserve it?"

 _You look like...that! That's why._ Her mind screamed out at her, but she leveled her gaze on his eyes and said, "Normal people lock the bathroom door when they are showering and, uhm, naked."

"I'm glad you realize that people shower naked - and that you pointed out the fact that I _was_ naked." He paused at the gobsmacked expression on her face. Her lips had tugged downward and she looked as though she wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up beneath her. "You're blushing as if you've never seen a half naked guy before."

" _Bucky Barnes_."

" _Lydia Ashford_."

She narrowed her eyes at him, blanching. "Oh great, so now you are mimicking me like a child?"

He waved a dismissive hand in the air. "You're the one acting like they're a teenage girl finding out boys don't _actually_ have cooties. Clearly, you haven't grown out of that mindset. I figured that's why you avoided me like the plague growing up."

"No," she said, the word spilling from her lips faster than she intended. She didn't want to look too eager to correct him. "I just...don't understand why you are here."

"In the bathroom, here?"

A growl passed her lips. "No, I mean in my house. Here. Right now - when Louis' is not even home."

He carded his fingers through his short hair, the ends curling just slightly at the tips. "A pipe burst at my place, and the cold water isn't working and there isn't anyone to fix it 'till next week. So your mother said I could come here as often as I needed to shower and freshen up."

"That's an awful long way to travel to take a warm shower."

"Yeah, well, I also just wanted to see you, doll."

She bit back the hopeful flutter of her heart. "Sure, Barnes."

He leaned against the doorway. She just stood there, eyes locked on a random divot in the wall. Probably put there by some sort of aggressive force. A moment passed, a breath exchanged in the air before Bucky cleared his throat and drew the attention of the short brunette standing before him. She lifted her head and swallowed thickly, confusion pressed into the creases in her forehead.

"I _do_ need to get dressed, doll. Unless you prefer me like this?"

Her cheeks flamed. "No - no, you go, uh, get dressed."

He moved to walk down the hall, his footsteps echoing in tandem with the frantic beat of her heart. Then he paused in his movements and turned to look at her over his shoulder, her palm pressed tight over her heart. A chuckle passed his lips to surely torment her.

"I'm glad you're finding amusement in this."

"I think it amusing you're _reacting_ like this," he said, watching the color drain from her face. "I don't have to go home right after this...want to go get some ice cream and walk around town? I think the rain finally stopped."

" _You_ spending time in Upper East Side?" she asked, incredulous.

He shrugged. "I figure I can make an exception for you."

And then he was gone, replaced only by the white door to her brother's room.

-xx-

In retrospect, she should not have joined him. There were so many reasons why it was wrong. And Helena was just one of them. Yet the girl with long brown hair and eyes filled with wonder walked alongside one Bucky Barnes, taking in the sights of the city with her ice cream cone in hand. Vanilla, to be exact. Plain and simple, and yet more satisfactory than the warm summer day.

Bucky watched her in rapt fixation. The way she bounced on her toes with every step, as though she were thrilled to be beyond the four walls of her home. How her summer dress with polka dots scattered across the navy fabric brushed against her knees as she walked, her hair dancing along her shoulders. Part of him desired to reach out and twirl a strand around his finger.

He wanted to watch her cheeks flood with color, from face down to her neck. He burned at the mere memory of her standing in the doorway, staring at him as though she had never looked at a man before. Her face had colored a pretty scarlet, and he hated himself for wondering if her whole body flushed that color. Or _would_ flush that color were circumstances much different. And her lips, full and forever in what looked to be an adorable pout, colored with a vibrant red that sang of her cheerfulness which radiated from within her. He wondered often what they might feel like were they pressed against his own. Wondered what sweet little sighs he might coax out of her, as he whispered sweet nothings against them.

Still, they were two people in a crowded street. Cars honking around them and people flitting about, conversing about their daily events. Some crowded together, others preferring to walk alone. And yet he stood beside a girl in her summer dress, her face bright with joy, and his heart filled with anguish.

"You haven't said one word," Lydia said, pausing to swipe her tongue along her ice cream. "It seems I have finally rendered you speechless, _Barnes_."

He _was_ speechless. And hopelessly in her merciful grasp. Yet she didn't know and wouldn't know. She _couldn't_ know because she had made it very clear Helena came first. Her feelings were supreme in her mind, and he decided to protect the girl's heart...if only to make Lydia happy. A mindless idea, in hopes he might turn her heart toward him. In the meantime, it gave him opportunity to remain close to her. To enjoy her company from afar, all while battling the war between what he wanted and what she wanted.

She would win a million times over.

-xx-

The four of them sat beneath a large tree casting a grand shadow along the ground, Lydia settled next to Steve with a book in her hands, and Helena draped over Bucky's lap with a pleased smile across her delicate lips.

"Steve, have you ever been in love before?" Helena asked, drawing the group to her attention.

"No, can't say I have," he answered without pause.

"What about you, Bucky?"

Lydia lifted her head at this, turning her attention to the man in question. He eyed her, a fleeting thing which she managed to notice before his gaze flitted over onto the girl staring up at him with wide eyed wonder. Lydia bit her lip and paused in turning the page of her book, waiting on baited breath for his voice to fill the air.

"What would you say it's like?"

"It's consuming. There isn't anything like it." He paused, and Helena nodded her head in frantic expectation, urging him to continue. "It sort of...creeps up on you. And when it happens, you know it's the real thing because they're suddenly all that matters. You'd put them first no matter what."

"That's so beautiful!" The girl leaned forward to kiss her boyfriend full on the lips, sighing loudly for all to hear. Lydia prayed she would be spared from the conversation, but her friend whirled on her at the last moment and grinned wide, asking, "What about you, Lydia? What do you think love is like?"

Lydia glanced down at her hands, clasped into a tight ball in her lap. Her eyes flitted up to Bucky's and she inhaled a shaky breath, her stomach a ball of anxiety. She lowered her head once more and bit her lip. What was love? She wasn't sure she knew. What she was feeling felt new and powerful, but for all the wrong reasons. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't sleep. She couldn't think straight. All reason had left her mind. All the lists of reasons why what she felt and wanted were wrong seemingly eradicated whenever in his vicinity.

And yet he was always out of reach. Her fingers might reach out and extend toward him, but they would always brush the empty air.

-xx-

a/n:

This story is sort of AU, and also told in snippet/one-shot style. I don't plan on it being all that long. Maybe 10 chapters? I just wanted to hopefully write something to capture a relationship during a war, and I hope I can do it justice. I've been thinking about and writing this story for quite some time now, but I always get so scared to share them. So here we go.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** _So I initially said this story would be ten chapters, but I'm thinking closer to seven with the outline I have right now. Maybe a little less, maybe a little bit more. It's a quick story about a young couple falling in love fast and carelessly, and war and all the craziness that comes with it. And I'm enjoying writing it, so I hope all those who have favorited and followed are enjoying it as well. Let me know! Anyway, here's the next one..._

-xx-

 _{July 1st, 1941}_

The Ashford family was notorious for frivolous vacations, and the week of the Fourth of July was no different. This year they found themselves at Lydia's Uncle Jermiah's home. a large estate on near the beach in Southampton. Close enough to the water she could walk there whenever she wanted, and yet secluded enough that it felt somewhat akin to a slice of heaven on earth.

The only difference between this year and the ones before, however, was her mother's great insistence on inviting Bucky, Steve and Helena. The latter of which happened to fall ill shortly before they left, and therefore would be staying behind.

Lydia, though saddened by the latest development, still could not hide the spine tingling feeling she got when her and Bucky brushed knees in the car. Or when his fingers would accidentally travel a little too far to his left and danced along the bare skin of her knee cap, skirt ridden up just enough in the car for him to do so. Or how if she turned her head even the slightest to her right she found herself nearer to his face than she ever had been before, the flecks in his eyes visible from that distance. The warmth of his breath tantalizing against her face.

She burned as she sat on the edge of her bed facing the ocean, her cheeks flushed and heart racing at the thought of what the week might hold for them. A horse event that weekend, a huge dinner with all the locals, walks along the beach, grabbing ice cream at the local parlor, traipsing down the boardwalk. All of which she imagined to participate in with Bucky at her side, guilt swelling up whenever she thought of his handsome face, his dark hair, the devilish glint in his eyes he wore whenever she drew near. They treaded on a dangerous line, visible only to them, with breach of protocol being the highest betrayal of her best friend's trust. So for now she swallowed her emotions and tucked them away, left neglected and discarded for another life.

Inhaling sharply, she rose to her feet and walked out of her guest room to join her Uncle Jeremiah in the large kitchen, littered with groceries her Aunt Felicity was putting away throughout the room. The girl joined her aunt's side and grabbed a handful of bananas, placing them on a plate on the countertop alongside some apples and oranges. They talked amongst themselves about the estate, the horses they kept on their land, the excitement for the summer festivities.

Given Aunt Felicity and Uncle Jeremiah were never able to conceive a child, they always held a deep love for their niece and nephew, sending them letters and money over the years, visiting them as often as possible, taking them on family trips to spend much needed time with them. Whilst forever generous and donating to countless fundraisers and foundations in their spare time.

Her Uncle had inherited the family business Lydia's Grandfather had started years ago and now was owner to various five star hotels throughout the country. A family name people flocked to for their reputability. Her father had never been one for the hotel business, preferring his study of medicine instead, though both brothers were no doubt blessed with fortunate living situations. She knew she never wanted for anything, and was thankful for such.

Bucky appeared in the kitchen soon after, smiling as Felicity handed him a flute filled with champagne and ushered him to sit down at the table settled against the far wall. Lydia joined him, her aunt passing her a glass of her own, and passed him an uncertain smile, gesturing to the home they would be staying at for the next week.

"I'm sorry my mom forced you to come."

He shook his head, tipping his glass and swallowing. "I love your mom, you know this already, though. The place is a bit much, but it still feels homely. I'm much more excited for the party later, though. You owe me a dance."

"I owe you nothing, _Barnes_."

"You owe me for the ice cream."

"You said it was on you, though..." She glowered at him, though halfhearted.

"Alright, fine. But I expect a dance later."

She grinned. He grinned. "One."

"Fair warning, dancing with me is like eating cookies. You can't just stop at one," he said, winking in his infuriating way which made her blood boil.

She leaned closer to shove him in the side and earned a chuckle out of her Uncle, who had made his appearance across from them at the table and stared at them curiously for a moment. Clearing her throat, she leaned back in her chair, drumming her fingers along the stem of her glass. Underneath the table Bucky thumped her knee with his own, a snort bubbling from her nose in response.

"You two make a lovely couple...is this a new thing?"

"Oh, uh, we -"

"What she means is to say, is that we are just friends." Bucky exhaled at the mention of friends, a low sound which made the room feel impossibly heavy. "She's made it _very_ clear that we are just friends."

"Yes, _just_ friends, Uncle Jer."

 _Then why_ , she wondered, _did saying that feel like a lie?_

-xx-

The party later that night was as lavish and over the top as Bucky expected it to be. From the twinkling lights to the party gowns, the drinks clanging as couples toasted around the room, the brass instruments playing in the corner. A sensual tune which drowned the room in a comfortable atmosphere, loosening up the people within and helping to ease them of the stresses of the day to day.

It seemed so strange - as if he were in another world when he was in the Ashford's presence. A world where his parents were still alive, where Rebecca still badgered him every day. Now his parents were gone and Rebecca spent most of her time with her girl friends, at the age where her older brother was more 'gross' and 'annoying' to her than anything else.

Louis and Steve were standing at the bar with him, ordering their preferred drinks and laughing over something one of them must have said. Both of which giving him a pointed brow upon realizing his mind had wandered once again. More often than not it seemed to do that as of late, his thoughts drifting in and out of focus. Oftentimes landing on the brown haired woman with eyes which captivated him, a mind which challenged him, and a spirit which set his very soul on fire from the inside out.

The same woman in question entered the room wearing a long gown of a deep scarlet that matched the red lipstick she had swiped across her lips. She stood on the steps trailing down and into the room, her hands against her sides, her teeth chewing at her bottom lip. She inhaled a shaky breath and he watched as she brushed an errant curl away from her face and started to descend down the stairs, catching the attention of her mother and father seated in the far side of the room with her Uncle Jeremy and Aunt Felicity.

"Did you tell her yet?" Louis asked after some time, waving his drink in front of his face.

"Tell her what?" Bucky asked, dragging his head away from Lydia. Steve handed him a cup filled with amber liquid and smiled uncertainly as he downed it in one go.

"About Helena. How she's not really sick?" Steve was the one who asked, and the frown across his face at the mere thought of what Helena did made Bucky wince.

"I haven't told her yet, no," Bucky said, grimacing. "But what does it matter? She's the one who's been dead set serious about the fact that we're just friends."

Louis rolled his eyes. "...Says the girl who has been pining over you since that baseball game. I know my sister, and she is probably only saying that to help ease the guilt in her mind over the fact that she would prefer you kicked Helena to the curb and went steady with _her_ instead."

Even so, his mind raced at the thought of telling Lydia that despite the short amount of time they had been back in each others lives, he found himself drawn to her in a way he hadn't been his whole life toward another woman. Most of the time his relationships were short flings, little blips on his dating radar - nothing beyond the point of a month. Nothing substantial. But this felt different, and if he were to make a move he wanted it done the _right_ way this time. He wanted to do right by Lydia.

She deserved as much.

"What about you, Louis?" Steve asked.

"I...haven't told my parents, if that's what you're asking," he admitted, dropping down onto the barstool as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "They might be easier to persuade, but Lyddie is going to take it so hard. It'll crush her."

"What are you waiting for?" Bucky took another sip of his drink, laying a heavy hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I think the day before we leave I'll tell them. I got my orders, too. I ship out in two weeks."

Bucky whistled, shaking his head. "That's so soon."

"I know, I sure as hell wasn't expecting that." Louis downed his drink and ordered another, head canted to the side. "But it's my choice, and this is what I want to do. They'll understand."

"Sure they will," Steve said, nodding.

"I'm shocked. Here I thought I would never see the day where Louis Ashford didn't make his rounds about the room in search of the perfect _dame_ for the evening's entertainment," Lydia said, appearing at Bucky's side, a glass of wine held aloft in her fingers. She raised the back of her hand to her brother's forehead and giggled as he swatted her away, growling in her vicinity. "I was just making sure you weren't catching your death, brother dearest. Since it seems you have not, I am wondering if there's something else keeping you from flirting with the first thing you find which has a beating heart and a pair of legs."

"You're always so quick to offend me, Lyddie." Yet the half hearted roll of his eyes made Bucky smile, having seen Lydia do the same more times than he could count. "Maybe I've had a change of heart -"

"Or you're thinking with your brain for once," she said, curling her arm through his and leaning her head against his arm. "You know I love you, though? Which is why the first dance of the night is yours."

Without another word, the siblings disappeared onto the dance floor. They were the only two present thus far, and the way they moved with one another turned heads all about the room. Muttering behind palms, pleasant smiles all around, and genuine joy radiated from everyone in the room. He assumed the Ashford's presence about New York went further than just the city, and the thought of such made his stomach churn violently. He was Bucky Barnes. Child to two dead parents and inheritor of _enough_ but not to the caliber of the Ashford family and their friends.

Even if Lydia returned his affection, there was a chance her parents would disapprove of their relationship. Something he'd considered but really only thought could be a very possible chance by simply looking about the room. He couldn't afford this kind of decadence. Couldn't shower Lydia in diamonds and gowns like the one she wore - couldn't provide the luxury she'd grown up with in a sustainable manner. And what work he had managed to scrounge up at the factory wasn't enough to do so.

"I know what you're thinking, Bucky."

"Do you?"

Steve dipped his head once. "She's not like that. She hates this, you know that."

Bucky's gaze flitted over the girl dancing in the middle of the room, her face bright and cheeks glowing in the pale light. "She does."

"So don't let it get to you. I haven't seen you like this over a girl...well, ever. She's special to you. Different."

"Hm."

And she was.

-xx-

They danced the whole night. She'd appeared at his side shortly after dancing with her brother and it was within his arms she spent the remainder of the evening. They'd even forgotten about dinner - not hungry for anything food would satiate. Lydia had only realized the fact they were the singular couple remaining when the cleaning crew appeared and requested they head out and bid them a good night.

Which left the two walking along the beach beneath the stars, her heels dangling from Bucky's hand, her hands curled up in her dress as she kicked her feet and danced along the shoreline. Her head rolled back and she spun, spun and spun until her feet wobbled beneath her and she nearly lost her footing and tumbled to the ground. Once settled she blinked her eyes up at the stars and pointed to the first constellation she could name, grinning like mad.

"That's the little dipper."

Bucky chuckled. "Yes, that would be the little dipper."

"Over there is Orion, right?" She moved her hand just a bit, circled around the group of stars and glanced over her shoulder at Bucky.

He squinted. "I think so. Look, Lydia -"

"Bucky."

They both gawked at one another, Lydia bursting into a fit of giggles. She blamed some of her glee on the wine, and some on the fact that she lost her mind whenever near the man with dark hair and kind eyes. He did something to her.

"You first," Bucky said.

Lydia sighed. "You know what you said about love? A month or so ago?"

"...Yes?"

"Do you love Helena...like that?" she asked, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth. "Like the real kind? The...consuming, passionate, strong kind."

He paused for a moment in his footsteps and stared at the girl. Her eyes were wide, and something glinted on her lower lashes if she moved just slightly underneath the moonlight. Catching this, she swiped her hand over her eyes and tilted her jaw up, a defiant gesture he'd seen her do many times when trying to hold up her facade of being the picturesque child her parents expected her to be. He hated she was using it now; hated she was building walls around herself and hiding behind a cold front.

"No, Lydia, I don't."

"You - you, _what_?"

He stopped them in front of a bench and pushed her down onto it, then settled next to her. "Helena and I were never in love. I was sweet on her in the beginning, but that's really all it was. We barely spent time together, and the only time we did was when you were around."

"But she said she loved you," Lydia said, her voice a whisper.

He glanced down at his hands and nodded again. "She did, or so she claimed. But I don't really think she ever was - I don't think she really even knows what that word means. And she proved it through her actions that she doesn't." Lydia canted her head to the side, and he continued, "Helena is not sick. She...ended things between us about a week ago. Said she wasn't feeling the same anymore, but I found out she was seeing another guy. Someone we met briefly while at one of the dance spots we would go to."

"Oh."

She glanced down at their hands, settled between the two of them but still so far away. Saddened by his confession, she reached forward and curled her fingers between his, offering him a squeeze and a slow upturn of her lips.

"It's nothing," he said, rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand.

"She does stuff like this all of the time, but I just thought - well, you know! You're different. You're _good_ and she deserved that for once in her life. I thought maybe you would...I don't know, love her into believing she deserves better than the men she's brought around in the past," she admitted, failing to meet his eyes. Her words were shaky, and he heard the slight tremor imbued in them.

"You can't love someone into a different person."

"That's probably the wisest thing I've heard you say," she teased, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Maybe if you spent more time _listening_ to me instead of _insulting_ me you'd realize that I have more to offer than my charm and good looks." He held a hardened expression, earning a shrieking laugh out of the girl.

"You're out of your mind, Barnes." She doubled over, her other hand curled across her abdomen to hold herself together as her body rocked from laughter. "Get out of here with your charm and good looks."

"So you are admitting I have both?" He smirked, shoving her lightly.

"I am admitting nothing."

But the way her cheeks turned red even in the dark made him think otherwise. He didn't think long over it, however, for Lydia jumped from the bench and darted toward the water, kicking in his direction. He shrugged out of his suit, leaving him standing in a fitted button up and his trousers, which he didn't seem to have much care for because moments later he stood knee deep in the water with the girl, splashing back at her as if they were a pair of school children on the playground.

"Oh, you did not."

He smirked. "But I did."

And at the splash aimed directly at her face, she screamed and raced forward, prepared to pounce him into the water. But he was faster, and his arms looped around her waist at the opportune moment, her body slung over his shoulder as if she weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. Her fists pounded, though half-hearted against his back. Growing more and more frantic as he brought her deeper into the water, his thighs now drenched through his trousers.

"Put me down this instant, James!"

He jerked her body roughly, another scream spilling through her lips. "In the water? Okay -"

" _James!_ Don't make me tell my mother."

"Your mother loves me, doll," he said, twirling her around in a large circle. She gripped tight onto the fabric covering his back, hair whipping about her face. "I'll make you a deal."

"I'll do it!"

He grinned. "You don't even know what you've agreed to yet."

"Anything to make you stop your madness." She slapped a hand against his back once more, earning a sharp groan out of the man. "Sorry."

Conceding, he placed her back down on her feet and held steady her when she started to tumble a bit. He brushed an errant strand of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear, watching as her pupils dilated in the pale light of the moon. Her lipstick was a bit askew, and her cheeks were flushed even in the night covering them in shadow, her chest heaving from effort and terror of being dropped in the water, and yet she still made his chest tighten with a feeling he'd never come across before.

"Don't you want to know what you agreed to?" he asked.

"Sure, I mean how bad could it be?"

"The deal was I'll let you down if you go on a date with me. One date. Just one."

"A...date?" She said the words slowly, her face scrunching up in confusion. "With me? Now you've completely gone mental."

She began trekking toward her uncle's estate, Bucky following behind her. "Why, what's wrong with wanting that?" he asked, gripping her forearm to stop her.

She whirled on him, eyes narrowed in the dark. "I just...you were with Helena...and she's beautiful and funny and - and _I'm_ -"

"Someone I've known for years, have cared about for years. You're stunning and you're smart and _kind_. And why shouldn't we? There's something here, you know it; you feel it, too. Why else would you be fighting me so hard on this? Back in your kitchen, at the baseball game - how you ignored me for a month after. The way you _look_ at me and act as if I don't notice. You can't tell me I'm crazy, because then I have half a mind to bet that you're crazy, too."

He was breathing hard by the end of his declaration, her hands balled up at her sides. She looked so confused, her perpetual pout of her lips drawn downward, her eyes still narrowed, brows knitted high on her forehead.

"I'll do it."

He blinked one time, two times...three times before realizing what she'd said. "What?"

"I'll do it," she repeated, biting her lip. "I'll go on a date with you. Just one."

"Fair warning -"

"Dates with Bucky Barnes are like eating cookies...you can't just stop at one...?" She guessed, earning a sharp nod out of the man. "We will see, now won't we?"

-xx-

The date was set the day before the Fourth of July. Two days, then. Until then, the groups days were expected to be filled with activities and events, leaving little time here and there to relax. One of those times was at present, Lydia seated on a chair overlooking the water, a wide rimmed white hat with a red ribbon tied in a bow around the front. In her hands rested a book, the same she had plucked from her brother's shelf the day before. _War and Peace_ , Russian Literature which had piqued her fancy. Fascinating and quite morbid, more so than she would have preferred, but suited her interests for now.

The summer sun tanned her olive colored skin, already darkened by her Italian roots. And she lay there in her bathing suit, a navy colored two piece her mother had bought her with a high waisted skirt bottom that clung to her every curve, and the top which was modest enough to make her feel covered without reminding her it looked much like her under garments. Typically she preferred something a bit less revealing, but her mother's protests had won out.

Even from where she sat if she closed her book and focused, she could hear the waves hitting the shore. The laughter of children playing on the beach down below. She could catch the music drifting from the boardwalk, where there were numerous shops littering Southampton's streets.

 _Perfection._

Curiosity brimming, she placed her book down on the little table beside her and grabbed a thin robe to cover her, tying it around her middle. She walked into town with a happy bounce in her step, waving as friends of her family called her name. There were clothing shops and food shops. Little carts which carried sugary treats for delighted children. A little carousel in the middle of the boardwalk, where couples and children alike were spinning round and round.

It was then she spotted Steve at a recruiter table. She'd seen them pop up more and more as issues started to arise, but only now were men seemingly more interested in enlisting. She remembered seeing the ones on her brother's desk, and swallowed a thick lump in her throat as she slowly made her way over to Steve's side. The thin man with blonde hair was deeply engrossed in conversation, his head bobbing at whatever the man in uniform was saying. And as she approached, said man turned and passed her an easy smile.

"Hello, Ma'am."

"Hello...Lieutenant Harrison." She batted her lashes prettily, earning a snort out of Steve. "I'm sorry if I interrupted."

"Oh, uh - no, no, we were just finishing up. Thank you for the information, Lieutenant." Steve waved his goodbye, and Lydia grinned at the man as they walked away in the opposite direction. Once out of earshot, he turned to look at her, saying, "Is everything okay? You looked like you panicked for a bit over there."

"I saw enlistment forms in my brother's desk not too long ago, and I guess I just freaked out seeing someone else I care about considering the military."

"I have thought about it, but today was the first time I actually asked someone."

She nodded. "And?"

"It's an idea," he admitted, stopping them in front of an ice cream cart. "Two please." The worker began scooping ice cream onto two cones, and handed them off once finished.

In companionable silence they walked along the wooden beams, taking in the summer sun and acting as if things weren't changing. Here in Southampton no one could touch her. No one could harm the world she kept herself protected in. Her gilded cage still sealed shut.

Still, part of her knew she should have expected something terrible lurked around the corner.

-xx-

"My little girl, all grown up and headed out on her first date."

"Mother, I'm twenty. I'm hardly _little_ anymore." She rolled her eyes, staring at her reflection in the mirror. "You were married already at my age."

The woman nodded, brushing her daughters hair over her shoulder and positioning it to perfection. "Well, yes, but things are different now. And James is a good man. He's a little bit older than you, which might be a good thing, and he's got a great head on his shoulders. He comes from a good family, too."

"You make it seem like we're walking down the aisle tomorrow." Her mother raised a brow, and gave her a look which screamed 'you never know.' "I don't even know what I'm doing. Maybe I can tell him I'm sick and that I can't go out with him. There are so many things that could go wrong."

"Such as..."

Lydia crossed her arms over her chest. "What if I say the wrong things? What if he realizes he doesn't really like me as much as he thought he did? What if...what if he tries to kiss me?"

"Would it be so bad if he tries to kiss you, Lydia?"

She blushed. "I guess not."

"And as for your other worries, he wouldn't have asked you to spent this time with him if he wasn't certain he had feelings for you in the first place." She tucked her daughter's hair into the braid at the back of her head, tying off the end with a ribbon. "There, you look perfect."

She stared at the young woman in the mirror. Twenty years old and on the cusp of adulthood. Strange, given she still felt like the little girl who grew up in the eyes of many. Always watched, always told what to do, always molded to act a certain way. To be a certain way. But it didn't have to be like that, didn't it? Her head tilted upward, the planes of her face highlighted in the low glimmer of the lamp she'd illuminated on her bedside table. Lydia Ashford was a beautiful woman - many told her that; she'd grown up _believing_ it. But there was more to her than a pretty face or a prestigious family. She was more than her name. And she was going to prove that.

"Mrs. Ashford." Bucky's voice drifted through the door, a question imbued in his words.

Lydia jumped off the bed, smoothing out the bottom of her skirt. Hands frantically worked to shift her top, tight against her form and suddenly almost suffocating. Lynette reached for the door and let it swing open, revealing an oddly nervous looking Bucky standing there in slacks and a dressy shirt, a singular rose in his hand. _I have more to offer than just my charm and good looks,_ he'd said to her, though the charm did help him win more of her favor. Smiling, she stepped closer to her date and grabbed the rose he held extended in his hand.

"I'll go put this in water, sweetheart," Lynette said, breaking the awkward silence of two adults standing in the middle of the room fidgeting their feet and refusing to meet each others eye. Very uncharacteristic of the man who always had many words. "Now, James, not too late. And I am sure that both Mr. Ashford's have already threatened to show you their gun collection, so I will spare you that, but I expect you to be a gentleman with my baby girl."

" _Mother_ -"

"That wont be a problem, Mrs. Ashford." He offered her mother a reassuring smile, then extended his arm to Lydia who accepted it without hesitation. "I wont keep her out too late, either."

"Very well." The woman regarded them carefully, eyes flickering between the couple. A watery smile lit up her face as she said, "I wish your mother was here to see this."

And then she was gone, in a flurry of skirts and bloodshot eyes.

"I'm sorry about that...she's jumping the gun a little bit. You'd think we were going to our engagement dinner, or something," Lydia said, sighing. Bucky glanced her way, smirking. "Do not say anything. I only agreed to one date, or did you forget?"

But the blush on her cheeks said otherwise.

-xx-

He stood behind her with his hands clasped over her eyes, her cheeks flushed and her lungs breathless. A peal of laughter spilled from her lips as he tripped over the back of her heels, almost knocking both of them over and sending them tumbling to the ground. Her hand reached up to grasp around his wrist, tugging gently.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, gasping as they stumbled again. "That is, if you don't kill us both on our way there."

"It's a surprise."

She snorted. "I figured that, but we've been walking for ages. Are you kidnapping me, Barnes?"

"I was hoping you didn't catch on, damn it."

Laughter bubbled up between the two.

"Really, Bucky, are we almost there?"

He paused, before whispering against her ear, "I don't know, you tell me."

His hands peeled away from her eyes, and suddenly the breath whooshed out of her body. He'd brought them to the beach, but far enough down the shore and tucked away near a low hanging embankment. A blanket was settled down on the sand, and there were unlit candles in the center. He'd put roses in a vase and had set little wine glasses on either side. The sun was only starting to set, and bathed their little spot in an orange glow.

"Who knew you were a romantic?" she teased, and something sad flashed over Bucky's eyes for a split second. "This is incredible. Thank you."

And they sat together, drinks clanging as they toast to new beginnings. She watched him with her big, round eyes. Dark in the moonlight, but never without emotion. So when she leaned in, he stumbled over his words and turned a shade of red she'd never seen the man turn into. The confident Bucky Barnes, lost and confused whenever in Lydia Ashford's presence. It made no sense, and yet she didn't want to change it. Because she found herself enjoying his company, even despite the wine. She listened to his stories about his life, laughed at his memories of childhood whimsy, smiled when he spoke about the future. And she found herself longing to be a part of it. A part of his life, a part of his heart - in any way she might be.

As the sun settled low onto the horizon, basking the world in oranges, pinks and reds, she dropped her head onto his shoulder and exhaled deeply. Contented. The waves could swell up right now and envelop her and she would still be a happy person. He sensed this, for his fingers reached down between them and curled with her own, making her skin tingle in a way it never had before. She'd held boys hands before, she'd even kissed that little boy on the playground growing up, but it never felt like thousands of little sparks were dancing along her skin. And she'd certainly never been on a date with one. She'd never found herself interested in a man enough to say yes.

Bucky seemed different. Hard around the edges, but charming and dedicated to those he cared about. Strong-willed and kind. Authentic and loving. Compassionate, but capable of still cracking a sardonic joke. She turned her head to look up at him, his dark lashes casting a shadow across his cheeks. From how close she sat she could see the stubble on his jawline. The same proud jaw she longed to run a finger along, but never dared to. His eyes were focused on the distance, his words carried along in the slight breeze chilling her summer skin.

"Kiss me," she whispered, a firmness to her voice she didn't even recognize.

He stilled next to her. The corners of his lips quirked upward. He turned as requested and glanced down at her eyes, down to her lips, back to her eyes, back to her lips - an annoying pattern which nearly drove her mad. Her fingers trembled as they cupped the base of his chin, her breath coming out in short puffs as she leaned halfway and awaited the first brush of his lips against hers. Frozen for a moment, suspended like the time which never stopped turning around them. But the pressure of his lips never fell upon hers, nor did her toes curl with the excitement she expected to bubble up when kissing him for the first time.

Instead the low rumble of thunder met her ears and jerked the two apart, looking up at the now dark sky. A flash followed not long after, followed by another clap of thunder. Groaning, she snatched their things and tucked the bottle of wine and glasses back into the basket Bucky had brought along with them. The rain started, no warning. Nothing had warned her of a storm, and the fabric of her dress soon clung to her like a second skin when the heavens seemingly decided to open and drop onto the couple.

"There's a little boat house over there, it's old and has probably been there for a hundred years, but it's closer than my uncle's estate," Lydia yelled over the rain, finding no humor in their situation.

"I'll follow you."

So they ran, racing down the sand as fast as their feet would allow in the now drenched world around them. By the time they reached the boat house and slammed the door shut behind them, Lydia's chest was heaving and her hair clung to her face, pieces stuck to the back of her neck. Bucky fared no better - water logged and looking like his clothes weighed him down. Sighing, the girl turned to the window and pulled back the slats, staring up at the darkened sky.

"My parents are going to kill us," she muttered, groaning.

"Not necessarily, I would like to think they trust me with you." His uneasy laugh said otherwise.

"They love you, but they also will probably jump to conclusions and thing we've run off to have a tryst somewhere dark and creepy," she said, shoving the blinds back into place.

"Oh, you mean this isn't what that was?"

She smacked him, earning a wince out of him. "You're still on first date probation."

"I thought I was doing well," he said, smirking. "You _did_ ask me to kiss you before the floodgates opened up on us."

He had a point, and she plopped down onto an overturned boat, hands covering her face. "What are we going to do?"

He sat down next to her, running a hand along her lower back. "We wait here until the storm lets up. Unless you feel like walking out there."

She shook her head, leaning her head on his shoulder. "No, it's like armageddon out there. I just wish I knew what time it was."

He looked up at the sky through the blinds, assessing. "It can't be any later than ten, I'd think. We got to the beach around eight."

"Great, so we have a few hours until they really start to worry." She threaded her fingers through his and exhaled, saying, "What should we do until then?"

He shrugged, the movement jostling her a bit. "We can play a game."

"Okay."

Silence.

"What are five things you'd like to happen in the next five years?" he asked, his voice quiet, yet holding seriousness she often found it lacked.

She thought about it for a moment, and said, "I'd like to have a job. I don't know what I want to do...I just know I'd like to help people. So that's one, I guess. Two would probably have to be a home overlooking the sea. I always feel so happy when I'm here, and I've asked Uncle Jer _too_ many times to live with him." She laughed, biting her bottom lip. "Three...uhm, don't laugh at me but I hope I'm married, and along with that I hope my number four is that we have a baby. Maybe with his hair and his heart, and maybe my eyes and my love for books. Or art -"

"But they're a baby, doll."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Shut up. Five. Five would just be that I'm happy. I hope I'm happy."

He squeezed her hand in his, laying his cheek against the crown of her head. "I don't really have five, I don't think. I just want to...do something that matters. I want to make my parents proud; I hope they'll look down on me and see that I'm trying to be the man they've always wanted me to be."

His voice broke at the end of his statement, and it took Lydia all her strength to not allow her eyes to water. Instead she angled her head to face him and pressed a kiss to the highest point of his cheekbone, watching his eyes as they fluttered closed and dark lashes danced along the tip of her nose.

"That's admirable and honorable," she whispered.

They sat in that little boat house filled with stacks of boats and endless rolls of ropes and netting until the sun came up the next day. And when they returned, still bedraggled and sodden, everyone merely lifted up from their morning breakfast and laughed at the two. Which shocked the two more than they ever thought to admit, and continued to be flabbergasted all throughout the breakfast Aunt Felicity had put together.

And though Lydia never got her kiss, she felt something had shifted.

-xx-

 _He's dark haired and dark eyed, and he loves his sister more than words can say. So when he sees her sitting on the dilapidated park outside of their school, knees skinned and eyes still puffy with tears, he's running toward her faster than he's ever run in his life._

 _Girls enjoy picking on the Lydia Ashford. Like pointing out her flaws, and how her daddy has all the money in the world but he can't buy her friends. But Lydia points out that's silly because she knows money can't buy friends. Nor can it buy true ones._

 _"June and Meredith tripped me today." Lydia gestures to the raw skin on her knees, dry blood marring her pale skin in the summer sun. "Coming to Upper East Side was a bad idea. I want to go home."_

 _But they can't, because her father has a new job. One that pays more and gives them things they probably don't even need. But he wants the fame and fortune, enjoys the limelight, even though his children do not._

 _"People don't like me here," she whispers, and he's learning closer to hear her. His uniform is getting dirty, but he doesn't care. He doesn't even care he's sitting on the elementary school property while he should be at the middle school._

 _"I like you here," he says, walking around in a circle and settling his hands on his sister's back, pushing her forward, then backward on the swing._

 _"You have to, you're my brother."_

 _He pushes her forward, then backward. Forward, backward, forward, backward._

 _"Which means I'm your friend. Your closest friend. And I'll never leave you, Lyddie. Not ever."_

 _Forward, backward. Forward, backward. A heartbeat. A comforting push and pull._

 _"Cross your heart and hope to die?"_

 _Without a pause, he says, "Even after I die, Lyddie. I promise."_

 _She whines, though she's giggling now. "Cross your heart!"_

 _He does, and then he's pushing her again. She's soaring and smiling. It's almost like she's one of the birds in the sky, and she's hovering over the clouds without a care in the world. And she's_ happy _despite the sting of her knees, because, no, her daddy can't buy her friends. But she has her brother, and he's so much better than that._

 _And he's a forever friend._

-xx-

 _I ship out in a week._

 _I gave in my papers a couple of months ago._

 _I'm sorry Lyddie._

 _I love you Lyddie._

The words spin around in her head but they don't make sense. They can't make sense, because he's her brother and not theirs. Never theirs. And yet he's leaving in seven days. Seven days which will go by in the blink of an eye, and mean the end of something.

Her parents yelled and shouted. Her mother crumpled and folded in on herself, hugged herself so close Lydia wasn't sure she would unravel. Her father turned red in the face and yelled for everyone else to leave the room. It was a family matter; a broken family matter. Louis was supposed to finish up medical school. He was supposed to be like her father and eventually take over the Ashford name. He was supposed to follow in the footsteps of the path laid out for him. He was _supposed_ to. But he wanted more. He wanted more, and she hated herself for faulting him for that.

But she cried, and she begged him to stay. And when her parents insisted they needed time alone to think, she stayed in her brother's room and sat in silence until her body ached and her eyes fought to stay open. Bucky had came to take her to her room when she refused to leave Louis' side, and he held her close when she cried into the shirt her wore. She whimpered when he rubbed her back and told her it would be okay. It would be okay, it had to be okay.

And Louis was happy. He would be surrounded by men who were working to keep the country safe. He wanted this, she reminded herself. He wanted this. She loved him enough to try and respect that.

And so they returned home in silence, the festivities of Steve's birthday and the Fourth of July tarnished by the anger the Ashford's felt toward their son. Only Lydia sat close to her brother, held his hand like they did when they were children, and kissed each other tearfully when the day came for him to say goodbye a week later.

His letters were few, and each one felt forced when written to her parents. The secret ones he sent her she kept hidden in her room, holding them to her heart whenever she felt lonely. Each one reducing her to a blubbering mess, missing the closest tie she had in her life.

All throughout the rest of July Helena came around more often, happy that Bucky and Lydia had accepted there was something between them. Apparently she'd seen it all along, and allowed herself to be unfaithful toward him with Hugo or Howard - she never remembered the new man's name. She rationalized their developing feelings as suitable for infidelity, and as much as Lydia wanted to fault her friend for it, her growing affection toward the man made the steps taken to get their worth it.

They'd still never shared that first kiss. The timing hadn't been right, the moment not quite perfect, but the tension drew thin. Like a bow string pulled all the way back, taut, but waiting for the opportune moment.

And before long it was August, and the heat was at its highest point in the city. Lydia spent a good portion of her day planted in front of her fan or at Paul's ice cream parlor. Alone or with Bucky, it didn't matter. He'd tell her stories of his childhood, how things were much different even beyond Bucky and Lydia's time. And she'd listen, happy to, though her ice cream always helped.

It became a routine of sorts.

Even on that Thursday on the fifteenth of August. She sat in a pale purple dress, belted in at the waist, and a pair of heels which made her feet hurt. But she ignored the pain, because Paul had asked her if she wanted to help take down the leftover decorations from the Fourth of July. She happily helped, moving about the room as Paul tended to his customers, most of which young children and their families with bright smiles on their faces.

Bucky joined the two later in the evening after finishing up at work, clad in a plain white button up, black tie and pair of dark slacks. He appeared behind her as she worked to loosen a cardboard flag from the wall, jostling a spiral curl at the back of her shoulder blades. Upon doing so a shudder rippled down her spine, and she shifted within the arms which had circled around her waist. Her palms flattened against his chest, and she pushed half heartedly to keep him distanced somewhat, aware of Paul still in the room.

"You look beautiful."

"You're biased," she said, giggling as his lips dropped against her forehead.

"I'm sure if I asked any man in this room right now if he thought the same, you'd see that I'm not." He smirked.

"You could, but none of them matter because none of them are you. Now _hands off._ I still have work to do."

By the time she finished the sun had set and Paul bid them farewell with a bag filled with goodies for her family. It was something he started doing, commenting that Lydia and her mother were much too thin and could do with a little extra sugar in their diets. Her mother protested, but she'd seen her sneak in a few here and there much to her surprise. The two walked hand in hand toward the familiar subway which would take them back to her home, her head angled toward the stars in the sky.

"I know there aren't many memories of you and I as kids, but I remember that one time when our families yelled at us for running around and catching fireflies in our hands. They said we were being silly, but I always liked doing that the most in the summertime." She paused in her footsteps, leaning her head against his chest. A heavy arm came to curl around her shoulders and draw her in closer, a contented sigh rumbling his chest. "I remember hating you that time you tripped me on accident and I ended up killing one with my hands."

"I apologized at least a hundred times that night, but you just cried and asked my mother if she would take me home," he added, his cheek resting against the top of her head.

"She didn't take you home."

He shook his head. "She didn't take me home. Instead our mothers thought it would be a better idea to force us to sit next to each other at the dinner table. If I remember correctly, you threw a piece of chicken at my face."

She bristled, shoving him lightly. "I did _not_ \- well, I did. Technically. But it was meant for Louis, because he had said I was only mad that you because I liked you. And at the time I still thought you had 'cooties' as you so eloquently put it a couple of weeks ago, so clearly that wasn't the reason."

"And here we are now."

She smiled, her head moving to rest over his heart once more. "Here we are now."

"Do you still think I have 'cooties' then?" he asked, his fingers dancing along her jaw.

"...No."

He tilted her head up just enough so that her eyes met his. A heartbeat passed between the two before he lowered his head and awaited her response. Hesitantly, she leaned forward and curled her fingers around the back of his neck, standing on the tips of her toes.

"So you wouldn't mind then if I kissed you?" he asked, his breath dancing along her bottom lip.

She shook her head and melted further into his embrace, dropping the bag of cookies onto the ground below as his hands came up to cradle her face and he brushed his lips against her's for the first time. A gentle caress, so quick and subtle she wasn't sure she felt it. But then he leaned in again and kissed her soundly, and her heart hammered wildly from within the cage of her ribs. All of a sudden it felt like each and every nerve ending in her body had fired all at once, exploding into bright light. Growing brighter and brighter with each touch of his lips against hers. With each kiss they said what words never could, and she felt like she'd never be able to get enough.

"Definitely don't still have cooties," she breathed against his jawbone, pulling away long enough to press a kiss there. "And even if you did, I don't care -"

He silenced her words and kissed her again, his lips upturning into a smile against hers.

-xx-

 _{October 1941}_

So August turned into September, and soon enough with it came October and the changing colors of leaves all about New York City. Lydia took up volunteering at the local hospital at the end of August and began learning how to assist those in need. Little things at first, but soon enough she found herself enjoying the work. Loving the way it felt to help someone, to give them comfort, to bandage a wound. Her parents were indifferent at first and somewhat confused, but as her father walked into the double doors of the hospital one day, ready to examine his next patient and saw his daughter in her uniform, talking to a younger patient in the waiting area, he smiled and dipped his head.

His form of an approval, and yet it meant the world to her.

After a particularly late night, Lydia returned to Bucky and Steve's apartment, hands filled with desserts that both men immediately scarfed down. All the while she spoke of how she'd stitched her first patient, despite the way Steve's face turned an odd shade of white upon doing so. But Bucky just stared at her, riveted on the spot and glowing with pride. He'd wanted her to find something to make her happy, and nothing in the world - except for maybe him as of late - made her as happy as working at the hospital did.

Helena and her newest boyfriend, Jeffrey, joined the group that night with bottles of whiskey for the men and bottles of wine for the ladies. It had become easier to spend time with both Bucky and Helena as of late, though the nagging knowledge in the back of her mind telling her that they had been intimate throughout their 'relationship' still bothered her.

And though she had been going steady with Bucky for some time, she didn't feel the need to rush into _that_ aspect of their relationship - if ever. Her mother had always suggested she wait for marriage, and Lydia had agreed, but some nights when they said goodbye and his lips were at her neck and his hands at her waist, sometimes venturing further, her head grew foggy and she failed to see the line in the sands.

His passion toward her like a flame, and she a match waiting to catch fire.

"So you two haven't done the deed?" Helena asked, the boy's laughter echoing from the living room. Lydia shook her head, tipping back her head to swallow a mouthful of her drink. "I can't even believe that."

"He hasn't pushed me on it. He's really respectful and he always asks before he does anything," she said, staring off in the man in questions direction. He glanced her way and offered her a smile, then turned back to his friends. "Stop laughing! We're in a really good place, Helena. I don't want to mess it up."

"Do you love him?"

Lydia glanced down at her feet. "I think I might be getting there. I don't really know what it feels like, but I would guess this is something like it. I know I don't have anything to compare it to - he's just...he's really great."

Helena nearly shrieked, hopping up and down on the balls of her feet. "You're blushing! Lydia Ashford is blushing - Everyone! Lydia Ashford is blushin -"

Lydia clapped her hand over Helena's mouth, earning confused glances from the men in the next room over. "Nothing to see here, go back to whatever it is you were all doing." Once Helena stilled in her hold, she unclamped her hand and tugged at a cuticle on her finger. "I think I want to wait, though. Until I'm married. To, uh...you know."

Helena arched a brow, sniggering. "Well then, Lydia Ashford. Way to make a man wait for it."

"It's not like that," she muttered, turning to the counter to stir the sauce she was making for their dinner. "That's not important to us."

"It might be to him."

Lydia shook her head, smiling fondly at the mere thought of her dark haired man sitting in the next room over. "You don't know him like I do."

Helena groaned, laughing. "Fine. Lydia Ashford has admitted she is a prude."

"I just think that sex shouldn't be a stipulation for a relationship. Tons of people wait. And what if what you have is more than physical, and it doesn't have a need for lingering kisses or touching in order to sustain it?" The spoon swirled around again in a giant circle, her hand swatting at Helena's as she dipped a finger inside and licked her finger. "I'm just saying I think if you need to fill the silence in your relationship - the comfortable silence, that is - with intimacy...then maybe you need to reevaluate the reasons for being together in the first place. I'm not saying that as a whole it's wrong, I just don't think it's necessary for me for now." She shrugged, resigned.

"Whatever makes you happy, darling," Helena said, before hopping up and sitting on the counter. "Louis sent me a letter."

Lydia raised her head at this, mouth opened in shock. "He did?"

The blonde's head bobbed once. Her eyes fixated on the wall clock above, mimicking the slow tick of the time for a minute before saying, "He told me he's loved me for years.

"He did. Did you reply?"

Lydia bit her lip, knowing he would eventually tell her when the time seemed fit. And what with issues with Japan arising, and his uncertainty of what the future held, now must have been the time. Helena sniffled, her blue eyes which already mirrored the sea swimming with tears.

"I...told him I loved him, too. But Jeffrey doesn't know, and Jeffrey is a really great guy."

Even Lydia had to admit out of all Helena's boyfriends, excluding Bucky, Jeffrey seemed the best out of all. He cared for her friend for more than her pretty features and rich family; he cared for her in all the other ways that mattered. Like how her laughter turned into snorting if you struck just the right nerve when telling a joke, or how her hair glinted gold in the sun, how her eyes always told you her true emotion even when she was lying straight to your face. How she never liked when her food touched, or how she preferred croissants and black tea to a coffee. He cared for all the things that mattered, and Helena needed someone like that in her life.

"...So I told Louis I loved him like a brother, instead." Lydia frowned at this, thinking of how her brother must have taken her words, unaware of the lie she told to preserve the care of another. "Because Jeffrey and I are expecting, Lydia. I can't hurt him now, not like this."

" _What?_ "

Helena laid a hand over her presently flat stomach, dipping her head. "I just found out. He's over the moon, says we're going to be a proper family, and that we should get married soon. He comes from a good family, Lydia. He inherited a lot of money when his father died, enough for us to live comfortably and raise out child together."

Lydia blinked, gasping as her finger lingered too long over the pot of sauce and her skin burned. "Wow. That's...that's really incredible. I'm - I'm going to be an aunt."

"You are." Helena forced a smile, one which never quite reached her eyes.

But she really wouldn't be. Not in the way she knew Helena wished her to be. Even then she could imagine the wheels turning in Helena's head, imagining if her child were dark haired and dark eyed like her brother, instead of fair featured like the man sitting in the next room over. How she knew her best friend enough to know she could go back in time and retrace the path which brought her here, going back far enough to those daily 'coincidences' where Louis would just so happen to be in _Gustav's_ at the exact same time as Helena each and every day. A fact he'd only known because Lydia had wanted so badly for them to be together.

Two people, ignorant to the magnetic hold they had on one another. Always skirting around the edge, but never quite moving close enough to realize what everyone else saw from the outside looking in. And now they would never have that - would never share the future she knew her closest friend craved.

At the first choked sob which tore through her friend, Lydia stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Helena's waist, cradling her head as it dropped onto her shoulder and buried itself there until her body trembled from effort. It was only some twenty minutes later, when Bucky walked into the room with a glass of whiskey in hand and finished where Lydia left off, and she whispered him a thanks, that Helena lifted her head and dropped down from the counter.

Then she straightened out her dress and rubbed the tears away from underneath her eyes. She hardened her shoulders and squared her jaw, walked into the next room and sat down next to Jeffrey. He held her hand and drew her close, and she smiled, but it wasn't her true smile. It was the watery imitation of one, slapped on in hopes of a bright future with the father of her baby.

And at that Lydia turned her back to the countertop in Bucky's kitchen and dropped her temple onto his chest, trying to smile as he tipped her head upward and offered her whiskey flavored kisses until she, too, felt intoxicated and numb to the heartbreak she felt for the woman in the next room over.

Over her brother who was somewhere far away, serving his country, with a part of his heart elsewhere.

-xx-


End file.
